Fear Factor
Fear Factor is the third update in Gotham Knights. It abbreviates the origins of The Scarecrow and Two-Face and chronicles the former's first attempt at usurping the title of the most feared man in Gotham from Batman while getting revenge on those responsible for cutting his research. It is a sequel to "Hoodwinked" and both a sequel and a parallel to "As White as Snow" with most of its scenes taking place the next night or a few days before. Synopsis Professor Jonathan Crane aims to continue his research despite being fired, becoming the Scarecrow to challenge the most feared man in Gotham: Batman. Story Matt slammed against the concrete wall in a cold sweat as he helplessly stared at a pale man hanged over him breathing slowly and calmly between two lips that revealed fangs. He grew closer with every respiration, little by little. Matt had forgotten that he was in a room alone. He had forgotten that there were people watching him from the other side of a sheet of glass. He was frightened, cowering, flattening his face to the ground to hide the man, but he could see it even when his eyes were shut. Then the vampire swooped over him, he could feel the rustle of its cape against his back, smell the decay and stench of blood. And then he fainted. “This is what my donations have been funding?” Bruce asked. He was disturbed. Five of the six people watching were. “As you can see,” said another one of the men behind the glass, “the patient is totally cloaked in fear, manifested from nothing but his own head. Imagine: The patients won’t even need chains. We can control them all so easily. They will receive an all too real vision of their darkest nightmare whenever they hang a gnarled toenail over the line. Imagine what this formula can do for the city and for the rest of the world!” “I’m sorry Professor Crane, but it just seems unethical. Using this gas would make us just as bad as the criminals chained to their beds in Blackgate. We want to fight crime, but we don't want to cause more problems in doing it,” Dent said. “Crane, how have you been developing this?” A third man, Dr. Arkham, asked, more embarrassed than disturbed. “I have been…um…sampling it on our patients during their psychiatry sessions,” Crane said. Arkham's face grew redder. “That explains why all of your patients develop more mental problems--” "...and become model inmates!" Crane interjected, matter-of-factly. Arkham's hand connected with his forehead and he faced downward with his eyes closed. "I am sorry, sirs and miss, that you had to see this travesty of what the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane stands for." Arkham stood as the rest of the herd proceeded to leave. This included Crane, but Arkham grabbed him by his collar's ruff and pulled him back. His face was still red, but much more tense now. "In my office, now!" he shouted as loudly as he could through gritted teeth into Crane's face when the others had exited earshot. ‡ ‡ ‡ “Professor Crane,” Dr. Arkham began, “Wayne is withdrawing his grant. The asylum is going to have to cut back because of you. I am worried about us. I am worried about you. When I said you were insane, I meant it. We have prepared a room for you here in the asylum. You are very sick, Crane.” Crane quivered and bit his lip. “You will learn the applications of fear, the good it can do for society. Fear is protection.” “Fear is anarchy, it destroys society. Good-bye, Professor Crane.” Two guards appeared in the doorway and each grabbed one of the still trembling Crane’s arms. As soon as their hands touched him, Crane immediately stopped shaking and his visage changed to a more sinister one. He pulled a syringe out of his pocket and stuck it into one of the guard’s lower arms. The guard, Aaron, unhanded Crane’s arm, which had become scaly under the illusions created by the injection, and backed into the corner. William, the second guard, was petrified at Aaron’s behavior and did not see the chair Crane was sitting in as it swung at his lower body. He fell back towards the windowsill and connected with a potted plant, the only decor in an otherwise drab, gray room. The pot shattered and the spider-plant inside drifted onto William's head and covered it as he lost consciousness. Crane turned back at Arkham. "You'll see," he said. If the madness wasn't apparent before, it was now. His eyes were wide and glowed with a glaze as much as brown eyes behind glasses ever had. He quickly turned and ran out of the office in a sprint. Arkham's face connected with his palm again before he glanced around the room. "I'll make cuts later," he thought. "I need a vacation." But before he could do that, he dialed 911. Crane rushed through the halls of the asylum. No one tried to make contact with him, per usual, until he passed a young, blonde intern with glasses and a ponytail. “Leaving Professor Crane?” she asked as he passed. “Yes child, I need to see a man about a bird,” he said back, not stopping. In the courtyard he glanced around. Someone had foolishly left a van unattended, the keys even in the ignition. Usually he would report this, but today he was escaping. He climbed in the seat and drove off as a guard stared dumbfounded while he drove off of the island. Escape was too easy. ‡ ‡ ‡ Vicki entered her office with a young redheaded man she had been with at Arkham moments ago. The story wasn't exactly what she wanted, but it was better than reviews. She wished her coworkers would go on vacation more often. "Can I see your shots, Jimmy?" she asked quietly. "Yeah, just a sec." "Please be more quiet," she whispered, though Jimmy had spoken as he normally would. "Why?" he asked, his voice now quiet too. "Nobody can find out about this, not until it is in the paper tomorrow. Except for Mr. Scott, he will find it on his desk, just meeting the deadline." "A little paranoid" "I just don't want anyone stealing it. This can be my ticket away from reviewing Indian-run diners and petting zoos with rabid llamas and--" "--and onto homeless men with powdered doughnut mustaches?" Vicki just gave him a moment's stare before asking, "Can I just see your pictures, please?" ‡ ‡ ‡ The next morning, Crane stared at a discarded newspaper from a garbage bin near his hideaway. He flicked through it, and there it was: A headline reading “Mad Doctor Conducting Experiments in Asylum under Head's Nose” by Vicki Vale. He scowled at the title. He was a professor, not a doctor. His thin face, thin hair, and thick glasses where there in black and white. The police were after him for poisonings and experimentations on human beings without consent. He rolled his eyes. They were in the asylum because they were not deemed safe making choices for themselves, and they were placed under his protection. Was the city really against him? Crane wondered, smiling as he read Vicki’s article. If Gotham wanted a Halloween, he would give them a long Halloween. He needed his toxin. He had samples, but not enough to prove himself to everyone. He needed funds, but was not sure where they would come from until he continued to read the article. Everyone who should have been supporting him was against him. They would be the first to go. His face was plastered in the police station, posted in the paper, and placed who knew where else. He needed a disguise, or at least something to augment confusion. Confusion was fear, and he would be fear. Crane pulled down the curtains and ripped up the furniture in the dirty tenement he stayed. He sewed it together into a tattered brown tunic and matching trousers as if he had had only one, short lesson years ago, which was true. It with his grandmother in the very tenement fifteen years ago as a matter of fact. Crane lived with his grandmother, a frail old woman as he had been a frail child. His lesson had been cut short when a bat fell from the ceiling onto Grandmother Crane. She died from a shock-induced heart attack when the vermin fell towards her and was dead by the time it hit her face and rolled off. Crane looked down at his rags. There were apparent stitches and tears of several sizes. It looked awful, yet beautiful to the deranged man. Yet, it was missing something. He reached into a suitcase of a few possessions he managed to take with him from the Asylum and pulled out a burlap mask he had used on his patients to let their nightmares run even more wild. Crane slipped into the shadows with his precious rags and pulled them onto his lanky body. A costumed figure walked out of the darkness and into Crane’s grandmother’s old bedroom and then closet. She had always been a witch for Halloween. He pulled the dirty, brown hat out of a plastic bag and placed it on his head. Crane examined his costume in a dusty mirror posing like a model on a reality show with his arm stretched down his side and his knee sticking out. “Scarecrow…''scarecrow''…SCARECROW!” he tested to himself, all too pleased. ‡ ‡ ‡ Though he had not been under the influence of Crane’s toxin, elsewhere Harvey Dent was having a nightmare. He was flipping his coin for luck, he needed it. Gilda, Bruce, Batman, and Gordon were frozen solid in front of his eyes, the same way he had seen an intruder at his party attack guests shortly before. Thorne was staring at him. “You can’t rely on your coin for this, White Knight. Man up, make a decision for yourself. It is you, or them.” Harvey flipped and stared from Thorne, to Gilda, to Thorne, to Bruce, to Thorne, and so on. Dent stepped forward, and dropped his coin. It landed in a hole in the flooring. It stood straight up, a head on either side. With each step towards Thorne the ice thawed, but each step grew more painful as he scarred over. By the time he was close enough to Thorne to strike, Thorne was gone and in his place was Crane laughing a maniac laugh. Dent heard whimpering, the inmate, Matt, was at his feet reacting the same way as he had under the influence of the toxin. Dent looked back at the captives as much as it pained his scarred neck to turn. They looked back at him horrified. Gilda fainted and fell into Bruce’s arms. He dragged her away while Gordon covered them. Only Batman remained staring back at Dent. Crane and the building about them faded away. Batman was still there, as was the person whimpering at his feet, but it sounded different now. He turned his neck again as agonizing as it was to do something so simple, only to see Matt had been replaced with Gilda. Dent tried to turn towards Batman for help, feeling more knives with every small motion, closing his eyes to brace himself. When he opened them again, Batman was right at his face, staring at him. He dealt Dent a blow, and the latter fell away from the Dark Knight and his whimpering fiancé and into a swirling, black and white vortex, that spawned out of the hole coin had fallen into. Bruce was also having a bad dream. He was in the asylum courtyard and dressed as Batman, but his cowl was removed. His parents were with him to his left. His mother was crying and father scowling. To his right were two stretchers. One was being held by Thorne and the other by Crane. Dent and Gordon lay in them with their eyes closed and their bodies with no signs of life. He had failed them and he knew it was his fault. He looked out from the island to the city skyline, it was collapsing and he heard cries. Before long, Arkham crumbled too. Nothing remained from the asylum’s ground but a man in a gray suit with tubing, staring into a snow globe. The globe cracked and snow swirled out of the globe until it clouded Bruce's vision. When it faded away, what was left of the dream world was frozen over. Gordon and Dent’s bodies deteriorated into ash and blew away with the snow, creating a black and while vortex, leaving only Bruce and his disappointed parents remaining to see the wasteland. ‡ ‡ ‡ Dent awoke and shrugged off the dream as nervousness. Today was his day, Maroni’s trial. He would finally be able to catch Thorne. He dressed himself in his favorite gray suit and placed in the right side pocket his lucky trick coin. ‡ ‡ ‡ Vicki walked up Wayne Manor’s stoop and knocked at the door. Alfred opened it momentarily, greeted Vicki, and beckoned her in. She sat in the sitting room when another knock came at the door. Alfred left to answer the caller. In the butler’s absence Bruce had just arrived downstairs when they heard Alfred’s scream. They raced over to the entrance where a living scarecrow, a man in a costume, was hunched over a shaking Alfred with two raggedy figures behind him so dirty and unkempt that their genders were indistinguishable. “The Scarecrow at your service, sir and ma’am,” the figure said, “It is alright to be afraid.” “Crane?” Vicki asked. "You're trying too hard." “I am fear. I am a long, long Halloween. I am Scarecrow…and I need funds for my research,” he said. “Is that where I come in?” Bruce asked. “I was hoping you would, after all…” Crane said as he gave Alfred a light kick in the back which resulted in a much more violent jolt and louder whimper from the butler. "You, Spook, stay here with the Butler and the girl. Ghoul, you come with us. Take us to your computer, Mr. Wayne." Bruce glanced towards Vicki before leading Scarecrow and Ghoul into his office. "You are going to transfer a million from your account onto one Ghoul here scrounged up for me," Crane said. Bruce sat at the computer and Ghoul wandered to his side, getting too close for someone who wasn't so dirty. Scarecrow glanced around the room while they typed. He glanced over the bookshelves and then wandered towards Wayne's desk where he took interest in the Shakespeare bust. He fanned his fingers above it, ready to caress its head when Ghoul spoke up in a voice so parched it was nearly in human and declared that they were done. Crane immediately forgot about the bust and spread out a lanky arm to gesture that they follow him. They reunited with the others in the foyer. "Did they give you any trouble?" Scarecrow asked his henchperson on guard. Spook slowly creaked his or her head from side to side three times. Crane's patchwork mouth spread into a sinister smile. "Then I have a treat for you two, you can wait until we are all united in horror before you end up like him," he pointed a twig-like figure out at Alfred before gesturing towards the door for them to leave after him. Scarecrow left with Bruce and Vicki in front carrying Alfred, a spray bottle filled with a bright green liquid pointed towards their backs. They entered the Arkham van which had had the logos covered over with bumper stickers and racing stripes. Crane bolted the door shut before climbing in to the driver’s seat. Back inside the manor, Dick walked downstairs and smelled a sickly smell in the air. He searched the manor and cave below for Bruce and Alfred and neither was to be found. He returned to the foyer where the smell culminated and looked around the room for a clue, and there it was in a corner; a hairclip on top of a three day old newspaper, with a highlighted headline reading “Mad Doctor Conducting Experiments in Asylum under Head's Nose”. Dick took the paper and clip with him into Bruce’s office. He pulled back the head of a Shakespeare bust and climbed into an elevator revealed from behind a bookshelf. ‡ ‡ ‡ Crane hid the van in an alleyway, leaving his prisoners in the back with his accomplices on guard. He climbed back into his grandmother’s old tenement and began to compile the ingredients into his toxin, filling aerosol bottles, pouches with poisoned powder, and syringes. Now all that was left to do was to show those who had silenced him what fear could do firsthand, and then the rest of the corrupted city. ‡ ‡ ‡ Gordon rubbed his face. The trial was tonight and now all three witnesses were missing. To make things worse, the investigation was going slowly. Bullock had to be thorough. He said it was what kept the classics better than the lawless vigilantes. “Are you sure Mr. Wayne was kidnapped?” Bullock asked Dick. “Not Bruce, I’m never sure with him. Alfred definitely was. He never leaves without placing a note in the, er, kitchen, especially when he is gone for this long. And why would Vicki just leave her hairclip and an old article?” Dick answered, again. “Detective Bullock,” Gordon said, “I am sure you know what day today is. Wayne and Vale are supposed to be witnessing at a trail. There is no doubt someone would want them out of the way.” “You’re point? Are you thinkin' Thorne hired the kidnapper? Don't you think I'd think of that?” Bullock asked. “No, even if Thorne is desperate this is too messy for him. What I am saying is, let’s get something done for once.” "Are you saying I never get anything done? I'm sorry, but tights aren't my thing. I am trying, doing everythin' I can to protect the law with''in'' the law!" "What I am saying is we don't have time for this. We need to find them now." Bullock's mouth opened again when another officer ran into the room. Renee Montoya, Bullock's assistant spoke. “Detective Bullock, Lieutenant Gordon, a call from Gilda Gold came in. She says Dent has gone missing too.” Bullock scowled, “How would she know?” “She said she had gone upstairs to find a pair of shoes, when she heard the front door open and the sounds of a short struggle. When it stopped, she went downstairs, Harvey was gone, and there was a sickly odor.” ‡ ‡ ‡ Bruce, Vicki, and Alfred had been moved from the van into the tenement where they were held by homemade stockades. Scarecrow had left to “run some errands” with Ghoul and had left Spook with them, who was now asleep on the couch. The effects of the gas were wearing off, and Alfred was calmed now, but still in a deep sleep. Vicki picked at her hair, removed another clip, poked it into the key hole below her left hand, and fidgeted until the lock dropped. She lifted the side of the stockade as far as it would go and removed her hand. She proceeded to free her head, then right arm, then Bruce, and finally Alfred. “Come on, let’s leave.” “What about Alfred?” “Wake him up.” “How?” Vicki scanned the tenement quickly, and ran-off into a side-room emerging again shortly after with a pair of old pans. She hunched over Alfred and gave them a large bang above Alfred's head. Alfred awoke with a start. His vision was still warped from the toxin, but his nightmares were over. “Master Bruce? Ms. Vale? Where are we?” he asked weakly. “Leaving,” Bruce said pulling the butler off of the ground. Spook rose from the couch, its tattered costume blending in with the furniture as the dirty face arose in a hump from it. Its black lips were so cracked that they started to bleed as it opened them for the first time to wail bloody murder. The pitch was higher than most men could muster, Spook must be a woman. Vicki threw a pan at her and the dip grabbed her jaw, knocking Spook back onto the floor with a wail. Vicki then rose the other pan and struck it over the fallen henchwoman's face with as much strength as she could muster, and the ensuing blast knocked her out. Vicki dropped the pot and fixed her hair quickly then gave the men an urgent look. "Don't just stand there, go!" she commanded. And naturally, they did. ‡ ‡ ‡ Dr. Arkham and Dent lay in the back of Crane’s van, under the effects of his toxin. Dent’s nightmare from the night before returned and Dr. Arkham was locked in one of his own cells, being tortured by a man named who had stalked his Uncle Amadeus’ life and ultimately ruined him. Crane only laughed at their screams. ‡ ‡ ‡ Bruce, Vicki, and Alfred sat in the police station, waiting for the inept receptionist to figure out what to do with them. “I don’t have time for this,” Bruce said after she asked for Vicki’s full name a fourth time. He proceeded to leave. “Victoria Vale--just a moment, please. Bruce!” she grabbed his arm. “Where are you going?” “I agreed to be interviewed over lunch, not knocked around in a van all day. I am a very busy person, Vicki. If you need me, Alfred has my number.” With that he left and ushered a cab to drive him to Wayne Enterprises. He made his way to the top floor and entered an office across from his own with a plaque reading "LUCIUS FOX". He entered and a dark skinned man with glasses in a suit glanced up at him. "Good evening, Mr. Wayne," he greeted. "Mr. Fox," he nodded. "Smell this," he said, tossing him Alfred's handkerchief. Fox' nose crinkled. "Nasty, and it feels like paint fumes," he raised his eyebrow. "How are you Mr. Wayne?" "I've been better. There is a toxin on that handkerchief which causes hallucinations. Hallucinations that frighten the victim until they lose consciousness and have nightmares." "And you want me to smell this?" Fox asked, his eyebrow still raised. "I want you to engineer a cure. The effects wear off eventually, but not fast enough, and the effects themselves seem rather unpleasant." “How would you like it delivered?” Fox asked, placing a clothespin he pulled out of a drawer onto his nose as he examined the handkerchief. “Through the chute,” Bruce said, "Goodnight, Mr. Fox." ‡ ‡ ‡ Dick was in the Batcave when Bruce arrived. “Gordon has been looking for you,” he said. “Well, then call him and say I was at the police station, Alfred and Vicki are still there, and left to attend to some important business before the trial and do not wish to be disturbed,” Bruce replied. “Oh, and get the car ready for me.” Bruce changed into Batman and restocked his utility belt before sitting down at the bat-computer to create a file on Crane while he waited for Fox’ antidote. It materialized as a case at the end of a shoot that was announced by a whoosh, a click, and then a ding. Batman removed it and found the case filled with vials containing a clear liquid. Alfred’s handkerchief was also there, the stench gone. “Lucius works fast,” Batman said. “Now I have to work faster.” He sat into the Batmobile’s driver seat. “Can I do anything else?” Dick asked. “I need someone at the computer until Alfred returns, and here, take this in case Crane comes back,” Batman said, handing Dick one of the vials, “But if he does, do not leave the cave.” He drove off. ‡ ‡ ‡ Crane was furious when he entered the tenement. The captives were gone and Spook was woozy and looked worse than before with dried blood patching her lips. He looked at the burlap bags on the cart he was dragging. He still had these ones though, and the plan must proceed. The police did arrive, Gordon among them. They stormed the deteriorating apartment building and spoke to Crane outside the door. “Open the door and exit with your hand up!” Gordon said, his gun pointed at it, as well as several other officers’. “I am afraid I cannot open the door without my arms,” Crane retorted back through the door. “Open the door and then lift your arms over your head.” No replay came back. Gordon kicked at the door after a minute, and it opened, it had not even been locked. He scanned the room, Crane was gone. His radio buzzed. “Lieutenant Gordon,” Montoya’s voice said through it, “we have a visual on a man dressed in rags on the roof above your current location.” Gordon looked around again; one of the windows was opened leading to a fire escape. He and the other officers rushed towards it and climbed upward. Crane was on the roof of the condemned building, brandishing a scythe with his two, morbid henchmen behind him, one still ditzy. Jimmy, Dent, and Arkham deep into their nightmares were rocking on rotting, wooden pallets of which they were chained to by rusty shackles. Gordon pointed his gun at Crane. “Put down the scythe, Dr. Crane,” he said gently as he could through gritted teeth. Crane did put the scythe down, but he did not drop it. He lowered it slowly, scarring a deteriorating water tower. Stinking, poisoned water spewed forth from the wound towards the officers. The samples of Scarecrow’s toxin in the water gave them their horrible hallucinations as their cells took the water in to try and reach equilibrium. The world about them became disfigured and hazy with the living transforming to monsters and debris becoming dead loved ones. Gordon saw his daughter among the captives, but he couldn't reach her as he imagined the water take them farther and farther apart. Bullock and Montoya investigated the van below. They pulled off bumper stickers and decals to find a picture of a lantern concealed underneath. This was one of the asylum's vans. They jumped when the screams from above came. They themselves were terrified, and they were not even under the poison’s affects. Bullock snapped out of it as quickly as was possible when he saw a black shape come from above descend: Batman gliding on wings. “Of course,” Bullock commented, “the sun hasn’t even gone completely down and he can’t keep his wings out of our business.” Batman dove downward and landed next to Bullock rather than at the apartment building. “I need your help,” he said. “There is no way I am helping you, darn it,” Bullock said, sneering. “Then don’t help me, help them,” he said, gesturing upwards. “Give those under the effects of the poison a shot from one of these,” Batman said as he removed a few of the vials from his belt. He handed them towards Bullock, who only crossed his arms. "No." “I’ll do it,” Montoya said, again to Bullock’s surprise. His eyes even flew fully open, something they rarely did. She placed them in a pocket, took out a revolver, and entered the condemned apartment building while Batman grappled upwards. Bullock just stood shocked. He felt betrayed. Scarecrow was waiting for Batman, rather relaxed. He was sitting down on an old lawn chair and brandishing his scythe. He stood up when he noticed the Dark Knight. “At last, my chance to face the bat,” he said slowly advancing towards Batman. “Too bad there is nobody here to see the true master of fear. See all this chaos, he gestured to the captives and officers, "imagine, that could have been on your side. It could have kept the scum you condemn from ever crawling back out of that filthy asylum. Want it now? I'm afraid you'll need to beg me for it. BEG ME! I AM THE MASTER OF FEAR! And, I could be your ally. BEG ME!" “I am fear,” Batman said, unbothered. “…to the weak. You use superstition and the darkness to create your own, but it does not belong to you.” Batman charged. Spook and Ghoul dove into his way. They feebly tugged at whatever they could grab of him but were easily shaken off the first time. Ghoul tackled Batman from behind and rung his hands around his neck. His fingers were thin and bony, but still leathery and strong. Batman struggled with him as Spook hugged her twigs for arms around his legs and hugged them tight. Scarecrow laughed while Batman tried to shrug off the zombie-like henchpersons while his victims screams in the background until his manic cackle was cut off by a gunshot. Ghoul fell back and Spook wailed again, but it was nothing compared to the victims of the toxin as they shrieked louder and higher when their nightmares spiked. Batman kicked Spook off of his feet and then a second time to repel her. She blacked out. He looked back to see Montoya staring at him with her gun pointed towards Crane as she eased towards Ghoul's whimpering body that was on the ground between herself and Batman. She had shot him in the foot. Crane jumped into the remains of a rooftop shed and emerged at the wheel of a bi-plane. The rotors spun and he was off. Batman grappled onto it, leaving Montoya behind to heal the victims. Batman leaned in towards his watch as he was in tow. "Batman to Batcave." "Batcave, bat-resident speaking." "I need some air-support. Sent the plane to my location." "Got it," Dick said. Scarecrow took his eyes off of the sky ahead to look back and see Batman still there. It only made him smile. ‡ ‡ ‡ Montoya's gunshot had brought Bullock out of his state of shock and when the plane flew away, he had decided it was time to investigate. Thoroughly. He climbed up the fire escape and was winded and drenched in sweat by the time he reached the top. Montoya had just finished administering the antidote to Gordon and the others. They all had a look in their eyes somewhere between weary and dazed, but they were fine. Bullock looked up at the sky as he smiled to thank the heavens, but his face sunk again slowly as the roof was covered in a shadow. A black, bat-shaped shadow. Batman jumped off before it could land on top of him. His spread wings lulled the fall. ‡ ‡ ‡ Batman dropped from the grapple and into a black plane shaped like the rounded symbol on his chest. He gave it some slack to get behind Crane. Crane didn't hear a thing. He did not notice Batman was gone until he looked back. He jaw dropped when he saw the black plane behind him. He veered to the right and performed evasive maneuvers. But he was no pilot. He couldn't keep up. He had only had one lesson from his uncle before claimed to see a UFO and snapped. He was terrified of the prospect of aliens, and seeing a Frisbee with lights sent him over the edge. Scarecrow released a sack of the fear gas powder and dove down. It wouldn't affect Batman from behind his glass windshield, but it did create a haze. By the he was cleared of it, Crane was nearly at the ground and a weather balloon was only a few yards ahead. He swerved to avoid it, hit the auto-pilot button, and then ejected. He glided down to the park on the same pair of bat wing gliders as earlier. On the ground, Scarecrow climbed out of his plane and carefully slashed it with the scythe in choice parts as a crowd of bystanders gathered around. ‡ ‡ ‡ Liberated from his nightmares, Dent entered the courthouse just on time and with a smile. Surely the worst was behind him. There was no way Thorne could weasel his way out of this one. In the same courthouse, Vicki was worried as the judge took roll-call for the jury. Bruce was not there. Had Scarecrow gone back for him? At least he had confided a written account of what had happened to them with Alfred. She glanced over at the stand where Maroni was seated. His Italian face gave her a smirk. ‡ ‡ ‡ Batman landed gracefully and advanced towards after his wings retracted. “Gotham will know what fear can do for them,” Scarecrow said one last time before the rotor began to spin again without the plain rising. He climbed on the wreckage behind the rotor, “My brand of fear. They will know its master. They will cry ‘SCARECROW!’ in the streets, bow before my knees. They will know fear, and I as its god,” he said as he opened a pumpkin sized package salvaged from the plane and opened it above the spinning rotor. A powder was sent across the park and continued to spread on thicker as he added more rescued packages. Batman fell as he inhaled the inevitable, green cloud. He began reminiscing his darkest moment, the death of his parents over and over again with the unidentified mugger wearing Crane’s mask and laughing as the Scarecrow did over and over, the outcome no different each time. Scarecrow only laughed, but sombered up to gloat, “I told you, I am the master of fear!” His yelps of victory broke into Batman’s nightmare as the mugger yelled the same thing. “No,” his father said as he caught the mugger off guard and dove at him. The mugger fell back and dissipated into the street in green wisps of smoke. Batman awoke and climbed to his feet before he could cherish how it could have been. The world outside was still hazy, the gas trying to get to him, but he would not let it. Scarecrow saw him rise, confused. “What is it? Afraid of victory, Crane?” Batman asked. Scarecrow’s eyes became slits and he jumped with both hands ringed around his scythe which was pulled back behind his head, his legs curled back. Batman jumped to the side as the blade became lodged in the ground. Scarecrow pulled it out and lashed again, and again, and again, but Batman dodged each time getting quicker as he recovered from and resisted the haze. Scarecrow raised the scythe above his head and Batman lunged towards his abdomen, knocking him back and forcing him to let go of his weapon. Crane was frail, and did not put up much more of a fight. Just a few feeble punches. Instead, he injected a syringe into Batman’s arm, just as he had to the guard before. Batman’s world grew hazier. He gave Scarecrow one final blow to the head, knocking him out. Batman pulled out one of his own vials to counteract the toxin, but it was too late and just as it entered his body, he fell back into a sleep. ‡ ‡ ‡ When he awoke, Batman was away from the park. He was on the roof of the police department, hidden to the side. Gordon was looking over him starkly. “Are you alright?” the lieutenant asked. “I’m fine, Jim. How did you get me here?” “I was able to smuggle you away in the chaos before the other officers arrived. Crane is en route to Arkham and your formula has been sent to the hospital to cure the people in the park.” “And the trial?” Batman asked. Gordon looked away. “Did Maroni get off?” “No, but it was still a, well, a nightmare. I was hoping it was a lie, an aftereffect of Crane’s toxin, but…Harvey was attacked.” Silence followed. “Where is Crane?” "In his own cell at Arkham by now," Gordon replied. Batman jumped off the GCPD roof and glided away as his wings spread out again. ‡ ‡ ‡ Batman reentered the cave and dressed back into Bruce Wayne. He rose into the manor above. Alfred still was not back. Dick said he was at the hospital. He entered the garage and drove himself away. ‡ ‡ ‡ In the hospital, a nurse was looking away, cringing. She couldn’t bring herself to look. Dent was unconscious, but he was scarred, badly. He woke up shortly afterwards, free of pain though the attack had been brutal. Maroni had flung acid into his face. He saw the nurse turned away and the wincing look on the doctor’s face. He requested a mirror. The nurse brought him one, not daring to look up and dropped it on him because her hands would not coordinate with his. In the shock of the sight, Dent screamed. The entire left side of his face was scarred, complete with a bulging eye. His right side looked untouched, just the same as before. Dent was shocked and obeyed his first instinct. He jumped out of his bed and left the room, the doctor and nurse making little effort to stop them. He reached the waiting room where Bruce, Gilda, Gordon, Vicki, Alfred, Bullock, and Montoya looked up at him. They were all uneasy, especially Gilda who fell back in her chair. Dent’s thoughts rushed in the little time he stood there. She could not love him now. She couldn’t even look at him. “Good-bye,” he said sadly as he pulled of his engagement ring and dropped it there before making his escape through a window. Gilda was faint and in a cold sweat, still shaking from the shock. She was afraid; afraid for Harvey, and for herself. The others in the room felt it too; they did not need Scarecrow’s gas to know a new nightmare had begun. Epilogue In his dark cell in Arkham, Crane laughed while Gilda screamed. Laughed, laughed, and laughed, each becoming more maniacal than the last. Arkham watched from outside. They had sound-proofed his cell but he could still imagine the cackles all to realistically as he watched. The blonde intern walked up behind him. "Mr. Arkham, you've a call in yer office," she said. They had to sell the intercom system when they made cuts. Arkham's face lit-up from the somberness that had watched Crane. "Is it him?" he asked. "Um...maybe?" she said confused. "Thank you, Arleen!" Arkham said as he sprinted off. "I's ''Har''leen. "H" as in 'homicide,' 'hyena,' and 'harlequin'!" she yelled after him. In Arkham's office, another blonde lady was inside on the telephone. "He's here now," she spoke into the receiver before striking it out for him to grab. "It's him." "Thank you, Dr. Sinner," he said and took the phone. Countless ways to greet the man on the other end rushed through his head as he tried to grab the right one, but only "Hello," came out. The man on the other end didn't bother with a greeting. "I here Wayne has pulled out," a deep and relaxed voice stated. "He doesn't like to be caught up with risks that can damage the name above his door. Mr. Arkham, your establishment has a future. I have decided I would like to invest in that future. There will be some changes around there, but all for the better. My lawyer and I will be in touch. Goodnight, Mr. Arkham."